


If My Heart Stops Beating

by alexenglish



Series: Codas [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Background Malia/Stiles, Canon Compliant, FSA Week, Love Confessions, M/M, Polyamory, background Braeden/Derek, background Scott/Kira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 04:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4945981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It might have been six months, but the sharp sting of betrayal is still under his skin. He knows it’s irrational. Derek can do whatever he wants, and Stiles’ opinion has no bearing on the matter, but it doesn’t stop Stiles from feeling abandoned for himself, and for Scott.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If My Heart Stops Beating

**Author's Note:**

> This is me cheating, this is a rewrite of [Joke Me Something Awful](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4262466). When I wrote the first part of this series, I realized that it would fit perfectly, so I reworked it to fit better. If you've read that, you'll recognize it, but there's more in terms of Stiles and Scott's dynamic.
> 
> Thanks to Kat for the beta! 
> 
> This installment directly follows the beginning of season 5, probably S2 or S3, before things really get heavy. You don't have to watch it to understand what's happening here. All canon relationships are still occurring and are all open relationships, so this is loosely polyamorous McCall pack, but you don't see the other characters.

_But I'll never let this go_  
_But I can't find the words to tell you_  
_I don't want to be alone_  
_But now I feel like I don't know you_

 

It’s coincidence more than anything, which makes Stiles _furious_. It’s pouring out, so Scott begged him to swing by Deaton’s and grab his paycheck with excuses like ‘motorcycle’ and ‘Kira date night’. If anything, Stiles is a sucker for those big brown eyes and that pouty mouth, with absolutely nothing better to do. Which is why he’s running through the parking lot at the tail end of clinic hours, hands over his head for feeble protection because he doesn’t actually own an umbrella.

It’s been six months, and the sight of a silver midsized SUV in the parking lot still has his heart jumping around in his chest from uncertainty. His legs move, but he looks back, eyes on the car, forward motion slowing. The plates are South American, and Stiles’ throat tightens into a hard knot.

There’s water in his eyes, over his skin, but he’s frozen to the spot. There’s a dull roar of white noise in his ears, blocking out the pounding of the rain. He blinks to clear his vision --

It can’t be, it _can’t be_ \--

Stiles turns and runs straight into a body, hard. Then, there’s hands on his arms to steady him. He wrenches himself out of the grasp of the person, and he _knows_. When he drags his gaze up, it’s Derek looking at him with shock, mouth slack.

Derek looks different, for no reason that Stiles can explain. There’s still the same rigid posture he’s always held, spine ramrod straight, but there’s a softness to him that Stiles never had to get used to. It was there before, Stiles knows, after Mexico, but they didn’t exactly hang out when everything went down with the dead pool.

Stiles lets himself feel a moment of relief and anticipation, lets it sweep over him in a wave of calm before irritation crashes through him and burns the momentary feeling of pleasure out of him. Especially considering the last time he saw Derek at the loft.

All the memories come tumbling back. The way his hand ached from clenching Scott’s shirt, the way his throat burned from holding back tears. It’s not like Stiles to get emotional, but it was more shocking than anything for Derek to tell them he was leaving over text, not even bothering to tell them in _person_. Stiles thought they were better than that, the three of them. For all of the bullshit that they’d been through together. It wasn’t fair for Derek to act like it never meant anything to him.

The solidity of him is shocking after months of memories and eavesdropping on Scott’s conversations, idly scrolling through his text messages when they’re together. Scott and Derek don’t talk a lot, but Scott’s made it a point to check in on him. It makes Stiles’ stomach churn with the smallest bit of guilt, overlying the anger that’s still there. It’s not that Stiles doesn’t want to talk to Derek, it’s just that he doesn’t want to talk to him _yet_.

It might have been six months, but the sharp sting of betrayal is still under his skin. He knows it’s irrational. Derek can do whatever he wants, and Stiles’ opinion has no bearing on the matter, but it doesn’t stop Stiles from feeling abandoned for himself, and for Scott.

Not that _Scott_ cares. Scott absolutely doesn’t resent Derek for leaving, because ‘it’s good for him, Stiles’, ‘he needs to take care of himself, Stiles’. And, Stiles gets it, he does, but that doesn’t mean he’s not angry, doesn’t mean that he’s stopped replaying every single moment between him and Derek, like if he had said something, _anything_ , maybe he could have changed Derek’s mind.

But, Derek and Stiles, they were always not _quite_ , and not everyone has the same open attitude about dating that Stiles and Scott and Malia and Kira and -- nearly _everyone else_ does. So, Stiles doesn’t know if Derek would have even _gone for it_ , let alone stayed on his behalf. He knows it’s selfish, but he wanted Derek to stay so badly, wanted to figure out where he fit in with them, with _Stiles_. Wanted to tell him --

The feelings come back full force, the ones he’s desperately been trying to suppress, and Stiles hates them, hates how weak he feels in the face of Derek’s presence _because_ of them.

“Oh look who it is,” Stiles spits out, voice crackling in his throat. Derek stiffens, face closing off in the way that Stiles knew it would. “In town on important werewolf business?”

“Actually, yes,” Derek says, jaw clenching, mouth a hard line. “I needed to pick up some things from the vault. I’m just driving through.”

“You _drove_ from wherever you are in South America to grab stuff from the vault?” Stiles asks, incredulous. That’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, and he’s been exposed to _a lot_ of ridiculous stuff over the years as part of a _werewolf pack_. “Why not just get Deaton to FedEx it? You’re not the only one in this town who can get into the vault, you know. Unless you forgot that Malia is actually your cousin.”

“Maybe I wanted to check on things,” Derek says with a shrug that makes the anger coil tight around Stiles’ spine even further. The nonchalant _dismissiveness_ of it all makes Stiles want to grab Derek and shake him awake, maybe punch him in the face for good measure.

“But you weren’t going to tell anyone you were here?” Stiles asks. Everything feels disconnected: The rain on his skin, the way Derek is staring at him, the thud of his heart. It’s like an out of body experience. It’s like he’s watching the interaction from afar, senses dull as he stares at Derek, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I didn’t want --” Derek cuts himself off with a sigh, shoulders hunched around his ears. It reminds Stiles fiercely of Derek as he first knew him, way back when. It feels like a hundred years ago now, when it’s barely been any time at all. They’ve grown lifetimes in less than three years, and Derek is reverting to the way he was before: insecure in his vulnerability, irritated at Stiles’ persistence. They moved past that, but distance apparently makes the heart grow harder, and the tongue sharper.

“To get anyone’s hopes up?” Stiles asks. It feels like he’s spewing daggers. “Make anyone think that you would stick around for once?”

“What do I have to stay for, Stiles?” Derek asks, and it’s a serious question, that’s the worst part. Derek’s convinced himself that there’s no reason to stay. It feels like a knife in Stiles’ gut, twisted and turned. So much for words like ‘trust’ and ‘friends’ that are lodged behind Stiles’ teeth. Instead, he grits his jaw as his veins run hot with his indignant, unrestrained fury.

“You can’t think of anything?” Stiles demands, stepping closer and rocking back. He wants to shove Derek, push him to the edge. “Not any of the people who worked with you since you came back? What happened to mentoring Scott?”

He’s edging the real issue, but mentioning Scott seems to make something in Derek crack apart. Stiles watches his body go tense, defensive. Something like jealousy burns through Stiles’ veins, and he hates it. There’s something about Scott and Derek, the way they interact, the way they are together, that Stiles can’t access.

That’s why Stiles didn’t like Derek at first, he thinks. Obviously, there wasn’t any trust, but there was another aspect to it. For the first time in their lives, Scott was different from Stiles in such a significant way. He was dealing with something Stiles didn’t understand and couldn’t help him with. That drove Stiles to research, of course, _trying_ to understand, but Derek came along and --

Suddenly there was someone who _knew_ , someone who could help Scott, and it wasn’t Stiles. Stiles didn’t like that, hated Derek for it; secretly thrilled when they butted heads over moral issues because that meant they were isolated from each other.

Of course, they fell into step along the way, and Stiles had to learn to deal, carve out a place for Derek. He knows he started to even before Scott did. Holding someone up in a pool for two hours changes the way you think about them, but that doesn’t mean that it was easy.

Stiles is too rough, which is hilarious, because Derek used to have snarled edges, but Scott whittled him down, smoothed him out. Maybe Stiles helped, a little. Stiles hopes he did, remembering every point of contact like a beacon in his mind. Rough touches to something better, something grounding.

Sometimes Stiles wonders where it started with Derek, _who_ it started with. Which one of them drew him in, made him want to play hero. Stiles is selfish, so he wants to be that person, but when thinks about the way Derek always chased Scott, he doesn’t think he was. Regardless, it was so _evident_ that it was the three of them in the end; Stiles and Scott and Derek, trusting each other and working together and being _good_ together.

Stiles wonders why him and Scott weren't enough to keep Derek in Beacon Hills. Why neither of them were _good enough_ for him.

“Scott is fine without me,” Derek says, oblivious to the way Stiles’ mind is bitterly reeling. “I’m confident in his abilities to protect Beacon Hills. I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t.”

That’s what Stiles expected; that little nod of recognition as Derek drove away in Mexico was a subtle passing of the gauntlet. Scott overcoming Kate’s control was a test of ability that Scott passed with flying colors. For Derek, that was the indicator to leave. Stiles _hates_ that.

What’s worse, during the real goodbye in Derek’s loft, Derek’s hesitation made it seem like he wanted to stay, was thinking about them. Right now, it's like things were _before_. There’s no vulnerability like there was at the loft, nothing on Derek's face to indicate that he has any feelings beyond ‘acquaintance’ or ‘ally’. That can't be right. Scott has told Stiles about the way Derek smells around them both, the way his heart pounds. That's not casual.

“Except now there’s a new threat,” Stiles says, licking his lips and shifting his weight. It’s not his desire to guilt Derek into staying, but Derek is objective where Stiles is paranoid, and Scott is unquestioning. They need Derek to stabilize them, and Derek just doesn’t care, or he’s pretending not to. “Do you really think we’re prepared for anything that comes our way? When things get bigger and badder every time and we’re --”

 _Struggling to keep our heads above water, struggling to function in day to day life_.

He can’t say that though, because that hits entirely too close to home. Especially with how tense Stiles has been since Derek left. Instead, Stiles clenches his jaw and breathes out harshly. Derek frowns and steps closer; he must be sensing what Stiles is feeling. Stiles doesn't move. Even if his first instinct is to jerk away because he’s so _pissed_ , he stays.

Instead, he stands there and lets Derek’s hand rest on his shoulder. It’s feels like a solid ton, pushing down on Stiles. It’s too much and too little at the same time.

“What about me?” Stiles asks, voice too low for him to hear over the onslaught of rain. The only way he knows Derek hears is because Derek’s hand tightens on his shoulder, almost desperately.

“I need you to stay,” Stiles says, thankful for the noise so he doesn’t hear the way his voice undoubtedly cracks with emotion. “I can’t handle the distance between us. Not since the nogitsune. It’s like you’ve been pushing me away --”

“It wasn’t that,” Derek says, quickly. His voice is low, rough, standing closer so Stiles can hear him. It might be his imagination, but Stiles swears he can feel the heat coming off Derek’s body at this proximity. “It wasn’t you.”

“It was just our paths, right?” Stiles asks. It’s still vicious, but quieter, respecting the somber atmosphere that’s sunk in around them. They’re practically forehead-to-forehead; close, close, closer. “We have different paths.”

“We’re not the same people we were,” Derek says. It sounds so pained that Stiles’ stomach clenches tightly in response. “Sometimes, people don’t end up going in the direction they expected to.”

The admission makes Stiles whine. It hurts more than anything that Derek would say that, _think_ that.

“We _were_ ,” Stiles says, fiercely, almost a whisper. “We were with each other the whole time. With _Scott_ \--”

Derek cuts him off with a hard kiss, pressing into him. Stiles feels it in every nerve ending and every fiber of his being. It drags the breath out of him, steals his words out of his mouth. Derek’s touch is desperate, hands on his face. Stiles thinks of words like ‘inevitable’ and ‘hopeless’ and tries not to sob into the kiss. His heart is a bassline of uncertainty, but he presses himself to Derek’s front anyway, head to toe.

It’s everything he’s ever imagined since the first wisp of possibility ever snuck into his mind so long ago. He doesn’t even remember the catalyst for his attraction now, can’t pinpoint the moment in time when he started wanting Derek. It feels like it’s always been there, just like with Scott.

It feels like it always will be.

Stiles clenches at Derek when they pull apart, unwilling to let him go any further than a few inches. They breathe deep, eyes on each other. Stiles feels how cold the rain is, feels the the ache of it in his bones. He feels where Derek’s hands hold onto him, one still resting on his jaw. He feels the snug warmth of a familiar emotion, one that’s existed for a long time, but that’s he’s just beginning to recognize as _love_.

“This isn’t the place for me,” Derek says. Stiles clearly hears the way his voice catches like a hook in his throat. Stiles wants to shut him up with another kiss, but they’re already separating. Any opportunity to confess is long gone.

“You need to stay,” Derek says, looks at Stiles with his pale eyes and drives his words into Stiles’ chest with the way that his body language closes off again. The way he steps away and raises his voice to be heard over the downpour. “They need you here. More than you need me. _Scott_ needs you.”

Stiles doesn’t have anything to say to that. There’s nothing he _can_ say when his stomach is souring with the reality of it. He knows Derek has a point, because it's true. Stiles will pick Scott to be with and protect and Derek isn't a part of that, yet. Stiles knows. He knows, but he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Maybe our paths will eventually meet up,” Derek says with a bitter smile. Stiles can’t move, he can’t react. There’s no way he can chase Derek down, not with the way his heart is shattering in his chest, not with the way he feels: opposition so intense that it makes him feel sick. If he breaks his silence, he’ll beg Derek to stay. He’ll humiliate himself confessing his feelings for Derek, and Derek will still leave, because that’s who Derek is right now.

Maybe Derek knows that. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t wait. Maybe that’s why he turns his back while Stiles is still rooted to the same spot he’s been in since he ran into Derek. Maybe that’s why he drives away without a backwards glance.

He knows that Stiles won’t chase him because that’s not who Stiles is right now. Stiles is full of anger and anxiety and doesn’t have it in him to drag someone back who wants to leave. He doesn’t have it in him, after everything, to make tender love confessions in a parking lot, standing in the pouring rain.

Stiles wants to be that person, but he’s not. Not yet.

Maybe one day he will be. Maybe one day he’ll see Derek and chase him down and tell him everything. Maybe one day, but not today. Instead, he lets Derek go and tries not to think of the tangled web of emotions that springs up when he thinks of Scott and Derek in the same context, because they are in the same context; tries not to think about words like ‘inevitable’ and ‘hopeless'.

Stiles and Scott have always been inevitable, and Stiles thought Derek would be, too. He isn’t, not yet anyway, and Stiles hates how much it hurts.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd link to my tumblr, but I'm too lazy. queerlyalex is me <3


End file.
